


Breaths & hands

by kimabutch (CWoodP)



Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, I just needed to write some quick cuddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-07
Updated: 2019-12-07
Packaged: 2021-02-18 12:22:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21710692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CWoodP/pseuds/kimabutch
Relationships: Hamid Saleh Haroun al-Tahan & Azu
Comments: 7
Kudos: 42





	Breaths & hands

Hamid wakes up, alone. His dreams, filled with waves of faces — Aziza, Sasha, Grizzop, the dean, all melting together as they fall away from him — fade into horrifying silence and darkness, and he is alone. 

Gone. They’re gone. Dead, lost, gone and he couldn’t save them and he’s left behind and alone and —

And then, through the panic, louder than his frantic breathing, he hears deep, heavy breaths. Azu. In the flickering torchlight, amid his bleary, wet vision, he can see her large outline, her chest expanding and contracting, as she sleeps, sitting on the floor of their cage. Their cage, right. It’s been… two days, he thinks, since they’ve been trapped here, while Zolf waits for them to turn on him and Wilde refuses to tell them anything. 

Hamid doesn’t look at the chair where he knows Zolf must be sitting: he continues to watch Azu. She took her armour off after the first few hours, and she’s sitting in one corner, her legs crossed and her back to propped up where the bars meet the wall. If not for her deep breaths and the outline of her head lulled against one wall, he might think she’s awake. From across the cell, only a few feet away, Hamid tries to resist the urge to go over to her. If they have to share this cramped cage for five more days, they’ll need to give each other space. And Azu’s so large, barely able to take a handful of paces across the cell — she’ll want some room. 

He curls himself up tighter in his corner, lying on a thin mat that Zolf must have picked up from the inn, closes his eyes, and tries to focus on his breathing, in and out. If that’s all that he’s allowed to do right now, then it’s all he’ll do. In and out. But it doesn’t take long before Aziza’s face comes back to him, and when he opens his eyes again, the space between him and Azu feels like the chasm that Eldarion created, pulling her down, down, away from him —

“Come here?” Azu’s voice comes from across the cell. Her head is upright now, turned towards him. Her words are a question, not a command, but Hamid, without thinking, picks himself up from his mat, and walks the few feet over to her. As he approaches, Azu holds out one arm, pulling him in until he’s sitting in her lap, her arms crossed over his body, his head on her chest, her warmth enveloping him. 

“You were turning in your sleep,” she whispers. He’s so close that he can feel her breath on him as she talks. 

“Sorry.” 

Azu doesn’t respond, but holds him tighter, and Hamid nuzzles into the soft folds of her clothing. After a moment, Azu raises a hand to meet his. Though her fingers are nearly twice as big as his, they intertwine perfectly, and Hamid knows that they’re both thinking of their broken circle as they returned to Rome. Biting his lip to hold back tears, he squeezes her hand and presses himself into her warmth, trying to measure his short breaths to hers. 

When Hamid wakes up, he’s not alone; his head still lies against Azu’s chest. Their knuckles are almost white, but they do not let go.


End file.
